Remembering a Dream
by Traxits
Summary: Inception-themed AU. As a naturally talented forger, Reno is highly sought after by the Turks. But between his personality and his past, is he really capable of repeatedly infiltrating dreams without losing himself?
1. Case 00436: Rufus Shinra

**Title**: Remembering a Dream  
><strong>Author<strong>: Traxits  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Teen.  
><strong>Content Notes<strong>: Kissing, violence, suicide (to escape a dream).  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 2403 words.  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: FFVII/Inception crossover, with the Turks infiltrating people's dreams.  
><strong>Summary<strong>: The Turks begin training Rufus's subconscious to defend itself against extraction.  
><strong>Author's Note(s)<strong>: Seriously, how was I supposed to pass up an Inception/FF7 themed fusion?

**[[ … Case 00436: Rufus Shinra … ]]**

"You always get distracted when you come to see me." She was pouting, looking off away from him, and he blinked slowly.

"Sorry," he replied, sighing. "Stressed out from studying."

Her silky red hair blew around her face as they sat on the very edge of Sector Six. Sector Seven was still being built, and they were swinging their legs over the edge, looking down at the slums below. She had a lollipop in her mouth, and she leaned all the way over as far as either of them had ever dared. She giggled as she looked back up at him, and he thought that somehow, the dark blue of her dress made her hair even more vivid. It certainly made her green eyes brighter.

"What are you doing?" he asked, and he leaned over to see what she was looking at, to see what had captured her attention. She scooted over a little closer to him, and he looked at her, licking his bottom lip as he watched her hair spill over her shoulder, still being whipped around her face from the wind. She dropped the lollipop over the edge of the plate, and they watched it fall to the ground below. It was dark, but the glow from the streetlights and everything else that made Midgar light up provided more than enough light to see by.

She reached up, adjusting the glasses perched on the top of her head. "I was thinking," she said, moving up so that she was standing on the edge of the railing that they were sitting on, "about what it would be like to fall."

"Fall or jump?" He glanced down again, trying to imagine how much it would hurt to slam into those buildings, fifty meters below the plate. He frowned. "Why would you want to?"

"I don't want to. I was just thinking." She smiled, clasping her hands behind her, and she tilted her head. "Don't you ever just think instead of always trying to be what they want you to be?"

He glanced behind her, and he sighed at the tower looming up from the center of the plate. Sector Zero had been the very first sector finished. He could see the light from the seventieth floor. "Doesn't matter what I want," he finally said, and he pushed himself up to stand beside her. He held out his hand. "Did you want to meet me to talk, or did you want to meet for something else?"

She laughed and let him hoist her down from the railing, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He kissed her, and his eyes slid closed at the feel of it, at the texture of her lips under his. She pulled back after just a minute, wrapping her hand around his and pulling him into the sector.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, and he nodded immediately, without even considering the question. He knew her. Trusted her. She grinned, and he found himself smiling back, caught up in her enthusiasm. "Let's go somewhere fun," she murmured. He let her lead him, pulling on his hand and glancing back to look up at him with a giggle.

He was so wrapped up in her infectious mood that he didn't even realize that they were going to the tower until they slipped in through the doors. His stomach sank, and before he could say anything, she spun around and leaned up close to him. Like this, with their feet on even ground, she was much shorter than him, and she had to stand on her toes to reach his ear.

"Don't worry so much," she said with a grin, and she kissed the side of his neck quickly before they broke into a run toward the elevator.

Soon as they were inside, he punched a button, not even looking to see which one it was. It was near the top though, and that was all that mattered. He pushed her against the wall of the elevator, laughing as she protested halfheartedly. But she wasn't protesting as he kissed her again, as his hands slid around her waist and down just enough to cop a quick feel. She giggled against his lips, whispering, "In the _elevator_?"

"I'll be President one day," he promised her, taking another kiss from her mouth. "We can do this wherever I like."

And they might have kept going except that the elevator doors opened, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he froze. A slender man stood in the doors, one eyebrow raised. "I should take the next one, shouldn't I, Rufus?" He smiled just a little, and she was looking around Rufus's shoulder, giggling.

"Sounds about right," she replied, and Rufus quickly pulled away from her. He glanced between them, and then he shook his head.

"Nonsense, Reeve." He stepped to the side and exchanged looks with her. "We were just getting off." He grabbed her hand and hauled her off of the elevator after him, and Reeve studied the girl for a long moment before he stepped in. Rufus didn't breathe until the doors shut behind him.

When he turned to look at her, she was smiling, but there was something sad about that smile. "Really?" She was studying him intently, as though she were seeing something special, something unique.

Rufus shivered. "Don't do that," he ordered, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "Don't analyze me."

She shrugged and walked over to the elevator doors. Her finger dragged down the seam of the doors Reeve had disappeared behind. "I wasn't," she said, but the moment between them was passed, the ... whatever it could have been called.

* * *

><p>"Tseng. Can you hear me?"<p>

Tseng stood up straight, taking his attention away from the window. He held up a hand to his ear, never mind that he knew that the motion was just for his own convenience. "I can hear you, Reno," he replied quietly, and he turned around, moving himself focus on the matter at hand. "Do you know who it is yet?"

"Reeve, I think. That ... head of Urban Development."

There was a burst of static, presumably from Reno's concentration flickering. He was performing well for a beginner, particularly since he wasn't any older than Rufus himself. That age similarity had been why they'd decided to go with such a young forger to begin with though. Reno simply connected more easily with Rufus than any of the other Turks did.

"Focus," Tseng reminded him. "You can talk to me as long as you focus."

"Right. Sorry. Trippy as hell in here."

Tseng could imagine the shake of Reno's head that accompanied that statement. The redhead had mannerisms that seemed to translate, no matter who he was forging. Eventually, they would train those out of them. "You'll get used to it. What makes you think it's Reeve?"

"He uh... bumped into us in the elevator, and Rufus was hella concerned about him. There was definitely somethin' there."

Tseng nodded sharply, and he murmured, "Get back to work then. Distract him, Reno." He started to let his hand drop, and then he sighed and added, "You're not here to seduce him either. Just distract."

"Right, right. I'm playin' hard to get."

Somehow, Tseng doubted that, but he didn't argue further. Instead, he simply dropped his hand and headed toward the elevator. He needed to locate Reeve, to catch him and start the actual mission. They had to get Rufus's subconscious where it would defend itself, where it would recognize intruders and repel them on its own. If he already had a projection in place that he trusted, it would be far easier to manipulate it instead of planting a new one.

If they did need to plant a new one, well, that was another reason they'd decided to use Reno.

Tseng rubbed his forehead briefly, glancing back toward the city he could see in the glass of the elevator. It was more than just a little shocking to see the city in such startling detail in a dream. He had never managed to recreate it so clearly, with all of the details the way it appeared in front of them, but Veld had been speaking with Reeve about it, had convinced Reeve to build them a version of it that they could load into the PASIV device and use for exactly this sort of thing.

He had agreed, so long as they used it to train defenses. They hadn't told him that they would use it for all of their missions where it would be useful.

He stepped off of the elevator, heading for Reeve's office, where he figured Rufus's projection of Reeve would be. It was where everyone's projection of Reeve stayed.

What he wasn't prepared for was to step into the office and see the walls papered in drawings, in sketches that Tseng was certain weren't Reeve's. He hesitated in the door, glancing back just enough to make sure that it was really Reeve's office.

"Reeve?" He looked back inside, and Reeve came out of the back room in the office, wiping grease off of his hands with a blue rag. He was wearing dark blue slacks and a crisp white shirt, and he smiled when he saw Tseng.

Tseng smiled back, but his eyes were sharp as they roved over the office, as he spotted small things that didn't belong. Trinkets that were out of place. There were models that Tseng had never seen before, and it wasn't until he got a closer look on one of the drawings sitting just under a model that he realized why.

Rufus's signature was in the corner on the paper.

Suddenly, Rufus's fascination with Reeve made sense. He'd watched Reeve take his father's ramblings, wild delusions of grandeur and turned them into a reality. Reeve had written most of the blueprints for Midgar himself, had created the empire that Rufus's father sought to control. And Rufus, scarcely fifteen yet, imagined that Reeve could make anything real. If he could design Midgar, he could create anything that Rufus wanted.

Tseng swallowed, and he looked back at Reeve. The projection stood there, perfectly polite and waiting for Tseng to initiate contact. He hesitated, and then he made himself focus. He smiled. "What are you doing?"

"Working, Tseng. Did you finally manage to escape Veld for a few hours?" Reeve was deceptively at ease, another aspect that Tseng realized didn't fit. No matter how polite Tseng was with the real Reeve, he inevitably seemed nervous. A product of being so closely tied to the Shinra family, Tseng was sure.

"Yeah." He glanced back up at the drawings, wondering just how many of these were real ideas, things Rufus actively thought about. He saw hundreds of different things, everything from reactor modifications to new bridges. Honestly, he'd never imagined that Rufus had an interest in engineering. "We've received some threats toward the construction teams though," he added, almost as an after thought.

The projection went perfectly still. "What sort of threats?" He walked across the room, looking out the window toward Sector Seven. Still being built.

"Standard things, but I'd appreciate if you kept your ear to the ground." Tseng cast a quick glance toward Reeve, his eyes narrowing as he watched the projection's reaction. "Had some toward Rufus as well."

"That's not good, Tseng," Reeve said slowly, and he placed a hand on the window. Tseng smiled slightly. That mannerism was spot on.

"No, they're not. Rufus is Midgar in some ways," Tseng replied, crossing the room to look out the window beside Reeve. "We can't let him be hurt."

"No. Rufus can't be hurt."

There was something shifting, something changing in the way the projection stood, and Tseng smiled to himself. He disappeared into the hall, not bothering to say goodbye, and he held up his hand to his ear.

"Reno." He waited a minute. Two. "Reno."

There was a slight crackling, and finally Reno responded with, "I just got away, Tseng. What is it?"

"Start changing things. I want to see if it worked."

Reno didn't reply, but then, he didn't have to. There was a moment passing, and Tseng glanced back toward Reeve's door. His heart thumped, and he was so attuned to the moment that he could feel it in his chest, could hear it in his ears. Then the door to Reeve's office flew open and Reeve was running down the hall, forsaking the elevator in favor of the stairs.

Tseng pulled his gun from his holster on his hip, and he waited just long enough to hear Reno shriek. Then he put the barrel in his mouth and squeezed the trigger.

He jerked awake in his chair, and without giving himself any time to think about it, he kicked Reno's chair over. Reno jerked awake, gasping and clutching at his throat in a way that made Tseng decide Reeve must have been choking him. Somehow, that was a decidedly fitting fate for Reno: the loud being choked to death by the quiet.

Tseng glanced back at Rufus Shinra, still asleep, and Veld raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well?"

"Success. I think another session, maybe two to enforce it, but there are definitely safeguards in place." Tseng bowed his head, and he reached down to haul the redheaded teenager to his feet. "Go ahead out front. We'll meet you there," he ordered, and Reno hesitated only a minute, rubbing his arm with one of his hands before he did as told.

Veld watched him go, shook his head, and unhooked Rufus from the machine. He checked to make sure that Rufus's pulse was steady as Tseng closed up the PASIV device, and they walked out of Rufus's bedroom. Veld shut the door behind them. They paused only once they'd reached the foyer of the Shinra Midgar residence.

"I will present our initial findings to the President," Veld murmured, and Tseng nodded sharply.

"My written report will be on your desk before the end of the day," he replied, and Veld let him get almost to the door, device in hand.

"Make sure you clean that redhead up."

Tseng smiled slightly, well aware that 'clean him up' meant for Tseng to get him an agent number. Anyone naturally talented like that needed to be in a suit, not on the street.

* * *

><p><strong>Case Number<strong>: 00436  
><strong>Active Agent(s)<strong>: 00046, 00051.  
><strong>Supervisory Agent<strong>: 00003.  
><strong>Duration<strong>: 07 minutes.  
><strong>Subject<strong>: Rufus Shinra.  
><strong>Objective<strong>: Training subconscious defenses.  
><strong>Conclusion<strong>: Successfully implanted the desire to protect Rufus against infiltrating agents.


	2. Chapter One

**Title**: Remembering a Dream  
><strong>Author<strong>: Traxits  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Teen.  
><strong>Content Notes<strong>: Chose not to use content notes/warnings.  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 4645 words.  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: FFVII/Inception crossover, with the Turks infiltrating people's dreams.  
><strong>Summary<strong>: As a naturally talented forger, Reno is highly sought after by the Turks. But between his personality and his past, is he really capable of repeatedly infiltrating dreams without losing himself?

**[[ … Chapter One … ]]**

It was the red hair that caught their attention. It was inevitable. Skinny kid standing on the corner never made anyone look, but the moment he'd let his hair grow out, let it become a flaming beacon in the slums of under-four, he stopped having problems making his rent. His eyes were a close second though, and he knew that. Worked it. He spent most of his evenings smudging his eyeliner slowly, looking at himself in the small scrap of a mirror that he'd found.

Then he met Tseng.

Tseng wasn't like the others, wasn't interested in his body in making him cry or sigh or moan. Instead, he was interested in the fact that Reno kept an old, novelty key chain in his pocket, something that he didn't let anyone touch. Tseng had recognized it for what it was; had known that Reno couldn't ever remember dreaming without being hooked up to a machine. He had bought Reno's time night after night and shared dreams with him, had paid him well enough that Reno could go home afterward instead of looking for some John.

And the dreams were easy enough. They spoke; Tseng gave him puzzles. Mazes. And he had finally shown Tseng his favorite trick in a dream. He had changed into a pretty redheaded girl with green eyes, a pretty girl who had sat in Tseng's lap and laughed and flirted outrageously. It had made Tseng smile, had made Reno feel like he was actually earning the gil Tseng would leave him.

Tseng never touched him though, no matter how much older he made himself look, no matter how suggestive he was. The unnerving thing was that Reno thought he might have actually welcomed it. Tseng seemed kinder than most of his clients. After several days, after weeks of dream time, Tseng had offered him a job. A real one.

Reno had stared up at him. Considered that blue suit and tie; the clean, blunt cut of Tseng's hair; and the brisk efficiency that Tseng did everything with. It didn't take him long to decide that he wanted... not that exactly, but the respect that went with it. People got out of Tseng's way, even men two and three times his size. He very rarely had to do anything more menacing than glare, and the few times he'd been forced into a fight, Tseng had more than held his own. Reno wanted _that_.

So he had agreed. He'd infiltrated the blond kid's dreams as instructed, had played Rena, his redhead girl. He'd laughed and flirted and coaxed Rufus into giving up his secrets. It had been some of the best work Reno had ever done. Tseng had taken him back to a small apartment after the job. He'd promised to order something to eat and left Reno in the biggest bathroom Reno had ever seen in real life.

He had been forced to pull out his key chain, had to watch the round ball spinning in the plastic case to make sure that it was real, not someone's else's dream. Not his own.

With the hot water pouring over his skin from the shower head, Reno thought that he could get used to that. He knew that there was hell ahead of him, things that he would have to learn, names and faces and who knew how many personalities Tseng would expect him to mimic, but for the moment, he could enjoy the water. He washed his hair as best he could, frowning when he realized that the ends were beginning to tangle up again. He had no doubt that unless he could get them free, Tseng would forcibly cut his hair.

So he spent a little extra time, sitting in the bottom of the tub, trying to untangle his hair with the hot water still rushing over him. It was a very small slice of heaven.

When he finally got out, there was a t-shirt, boxers, and loose pants waiting for him, folded up all neat and perfect, just like the rest of Tseng's house. Reno wondered how the hell Tseng expected him to survive like that, when at best, he was messy. He held them up to his nose, breathing in the scent of the laundry detergent, a luxury under the plate. Most had simply scrubbed their clothes in plain water.

Dinner was a pizza so loaded with toppings that each piece nearly folded in half when he'd pick it up, but he did as Tseng did, positioning his hands so that he could support the slice in multiple locations. They didn't speak any more that night, although Tseng had given him a beer. Reno was grateful. He didn't think he'd have gotten to sleep in the bedroom that Tseng left him in without it. Everything was too bright, too much light creeping in through the windows, and no where near enough noise.

He woke to the smell of something cooking, and he put a hand over his stomach, wondering when the last time had been that he'd managed to get not one, but two meals in a row out of the same person. The same person besides that old lady who liked to ruffle his hair. Deciding that it wasn't important, he headed into the kitchen and stood there, staring at the neatly organized and labeled spices that covered one wall. They were tucked away in little wire racks that Reno strongly suspected had been handmade. He picked up one of the bottles, his eyes narrowing as he realized that he couldn't read what was written on it.

Had to be Wutaian.

He smiled slightly, and Tseng glanced up from the stove toward him.

"You labeled everything in Wutaian?"

Tseng smiled, but Reno's eyes narrowed as he realized that it was sad. "Helps me remember the words," he finally said, and he looked back down. Reno snorted. Tseng didn't strike him as the type who needed help remembering his native language. More likely, he was interested in preserving what he could of it.

"Right," he said slowly, and he replaced the spice on the rack. "So... What are we doing today?"

"Eating breakfast. Getting you sized for a suit." Tseng's eyes raised. "Cutting your hair."

"What?" Reno grabbed at his hair almost instinctively. He frowned. "Why? It's clean!"

Tseng shook his head, and he walked over to the table, skillet in hand. He scraped half of the eggs onto one plate, and the other half on the other. "Eat first."

Reno would have protested, would have argued, but something told him that it would be hopeless. A waste of energy. He sighed as he fell into one of the chairs. He grabbed the fork Tseng had already set out and pushed some of the eggs around, but he didn't linger for long. He knew that he needed to eat. Before Tseng had even got back to the table, Reno had cleared out half of his plate.

"You'll make yourself sick," Tseng said, but he didn't stop Reno. Good thing, because Reno had decided that if Tseng had tried, he was going to get a fork in the back of his hand for his troubles. Reno watched though as Tseng slid into the other chair at the table, his eyes lingering over the graceful movements that Tseng used to unfold his napkin and lift the fork at the side of the plate. As soon as he realized Tseng was looking back though, he returned his attention to his breakfast.

"I don't get sick," he mumbled around a mouthful of eggs, and Tseng made a little sound in the back of his throat.

"Must be nice. ... How many people can you do?"

Reno hesitated, lowering the bite he'd started to lift to his mouth. "What? Oh... In dreams?"

There might have been the faintest dusting of red over Tseng's face, but it was hard as hell to tell. Tseng waved a hand. "Yes. How many can you forge?"

"Um." Reno tapped a finger against the table. There was Rena and Kent and Penelope and Ian right off hand. He could probably manage quick and dirty versions of a few others, although they wouldn't be as distinct as any of those four. "Six," he finally said. It was always better to fudge his numbers a little. Tseng nodded slowly, but Reno couldn't tell if he was impressed or not. He hoped he was.

The fitting wasn't bad. They went into the tower— and Reno openly gaped until Tseng smacked him on the back of the head— and in a small room on a floor with a mall, a group of women flirted almost as well as Reno did. They were focused mostly on Tseng, who simply smiled and brushed them aside with the same careless indifference that he'd used with Reno. That he still used with Reno. But when they flirted with Reno, he didn't bother to act shy. He grinned and complimented their eyes and their lips, and touched the youngest one on the side of her face with the backs of his fingers. She had blushed, and several of the older ladies had laughed at him.

"You'll have your hands full with that one, Tseng," one of them cackled, and Tseng inclined his head, his face wearing that look of resignation that Reno decided would be his standard every time Tseng looked at him. "He's a charmer."

Reno would have said something, something clever even though he couldn't think of what exactly he would have said, but then the tape measures came out. He went perfectly still, his eyes widening as they positioned him and measured every single thing that could possibly have been measured without undressing him.

It might have been one of the scariest experiences in Reno's life, given the speed and efficiency that they moved with.

Then he and Tseng were ushered out of the room, and Reno glanced up just as he spotted Tseng tucking something into the inner pocket of his jacket. A ticket stub maybe; something to let him know when to pick up the suit. Tseng bought him an off-the-rack suit to hold him over until his was finished. Reno wasn't looking forward to that, and he watched as Tseng carefully tucked all of the receipts together, circling the totals on the bottom of them. He had no doubt that each item would be coming out of his first pay check.

By the time they made it back to Tseng's apartment, Reno was decidedly keyed up, his hands reaching back periodically to check his hair. But Tseng made no move that he even noticed, instead simply walking into the kitchen again and breaking out more beer. Reno took one, and when he heard a knock on the door, he dropped it.

Tseng's reflexes were faster than his own though, because Tseng caught it smoothly, as though he'd expected it to fall. He set it on the counter beside Reno before he went to open the door. Reno grinned as he realized that he recognized the man there. Reeve Tuesti. The board member that the kid— Rufus, his brain supplied, but he didn't pay it any mind— had been so interested in.

He picked up his beer and turned the bottle up, finishing it before he pushed off of the counter and walked over. Reeve glanced down at him, and he went perfectly still.

"Hi," he said hesitantly, his eyes lifting to meet Tseng's. Tseng simply shrugged and took the plastic bag that Reeve had been carrying. Reno thought he could smell something tasty in the bag. Wutaian maybe. That would have been fitting.

"Reno," he supplied, sticking out his hand. He wasn't exactly trying to mimic Tseng, but Tseng's mannerisms were the only ones from above the plate that Reno had been given time to learn so far. He smiled, and Reeve seemed a bit more at ease. They shook hands.

"I'm Reeve. Are ... are you the new Turk?" Reeve raised an eyebrow, and Reno had no doubt that he was deciding that Reno was too young. He couldn't stop the slow grin that spread over his lips. It must have been a little unnerving though, because Reeve straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he looked Reno over.

"Yep. Tseng found me. Want a beer?" He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, toward the kitchen. "Tseng has some."

"Ah... No, thank you. Tseng and I..." Reeve stopped, uncertain of what he wanted to say, maybe.

Reno turned toward the kitchen. "Tseng, what do you and Reeve normally do? He's all flustered." His grin widened as he saw a blush on Reeve's face. "Really?" he asked, looking back at Reeve. "You do _that_?"

"No!" Reeve reached up and put a hand over his mouth, and Reno laughed at the combination of horror and annoyance that Reeve managed to wear. A hand landed on Reno shoulder though, and he tilted his head back to look up at Tseng.

"Stop terrorizing, Reeve," he ordered, and he gently pushed Reno toward the table. "Sit. Fix your plate."

Reno did as instructed, but as he began spooning food onto his plate— it _was_ Wutaian— Tseng and Reeve stepped out onto the small balcony just on the other side of the living room. Reno's eyes narrowed, and he speared a piece of chicken with his fork. He was concentrating too much to eat though, his eyes sharp as they focused on Reeve's lips. Tseng's back was to him, so he couldn't see the responses, but he could follow what must have been said well enough.

_You found him where? He's just a kid. He can't... What?_

There was more, but Tseng turned around, spotted Reno looking at them, and a faint smile crossed his face. He turned back to Reeve, and Reno's eyes widened as he realized that they must have switched to Wutaian. He couldn't pick out any more words that knew from Reeve's lips. He sighed and began pushing the food around his plate, waiting for them to come back.

It was a long wait. Or maybe it just seemed like a long wait because he was sitting there staring at food.

Either way, when they finally came back, Reno had given up on trying to wait for them, and he'd inhaled everything on his plate. It had taken a lot of willpower not to also mow through the rest of the food, to leave enough for them to eat as well. Tseng seemed to appreciate it though, because he did pat the top of Reno's head. The motion made some sort of weird feeling well up in Reno's stomach, and he shrugged it off.

"Tseng says you're from under-four," Reeve said, and Reno shrugged. Reeve, taken aback perhaps by the lack of interest in the topic, looked back at his plate for a minute before he asked, "He also says that you're familiar with dreams."

A smile— a smirk really— crossed Reno's lips. "Tseng says a lot." But a sharp kick from Tseng under the table, and Reno scowled before he looked back at Reeve. "I am."

Tseng stood then, moving into the kitchen to get something, and both Reeve and Reno were quiet until he returned. He had a tray in hand, some kind of service set, with a ceramic bottle and three very small cups. He poured the first one just as he sat back down.

"How much time have you clocked then?" Reeve smiled as he sipped from the cup that Tseng had handed him. Reno didn't stop himself from watching the way they both moved, Tseng clearly having the benefit of comfort while Reeve looked almost as though he had to mimic Tseng's manner. He'd faltered when Tseng had placed the cup in his hand, had to remember how to accept it. Reno couldn't help it as he took the cup from Tseng in the same way, minus the fumbling, and he didn't miss the way Tseng's eyes narrowed at him.

"Forever," Reno replied, not lifting the cup to his lips. Tseng poured one more, and Reno watched him drink before he moved. Not so much because he was concerned about what was in it, but simple unfamiliarity with the glassware. He didn't want to screw things up too much. There would be plenty of time for that later. "I mean... I do it at least every other day."

Reeve raised an eyebrow, and he leaned forward, setting the cup on the table. "Wait... do you ... do you dream any more? Without the device?"

Tseng didn't make a sound, but Reno glanced at him all the same, uncertain of what he could say. "No," he finally said. Tseng seemed to keep Reeve in the loop, as far as Reno could tell in such a short amount of time, and he hadn't missed the expression on Tseng's face whenever he looked at Reeve. There was trust there, no matter how jumpy Reeve was.

There was a soft noise as Reeve reached out to touch his hand. "How old are you?"

Another hesitation. He glanced up at Tseng. He was pretty sure that Tseng didn't know. "Seventeen," he replied, covering the pause with a sip from his cup. That alcohol was potent, burning his mouth probably because he hadn't ever had it before. Some kind of Wutaian drink.

"Just a kid," Reeve said, but Tseng snorted. Reno felt something cold wash over him. Tseng knew. How the hell could Tseng know? He forced a smile though, all too familiar with the simple lies that society liked. He let Reeve pat his hand, and he took over pouring from the little bottle. Reeve made more fuss, this time about the way Reno could do it properly and Reeve couldn't. Tseng simply shook his head, raising an eyebrow. Reno knew what Tseng was saying without Tseng speaking a word.

Reno was a forger. That was what Tseng had called his party trick. Forging.

He picked up mannerisms and copied them and accents and anything else that he could use to appear to be someone. Tseng was counting on his abilities, and any chance Reno had to remind him of them, he would. He had no doubt that it was that ability that had caused Tseng to vouch for him. No doubt that it had been the time they'd dreamed, sitting across a table from one another, Tseng watching as Reno shifted faces as easily as most changed their hairstyle. Reno wasn't about to let him forget it.

Tseng hadn't quieted Reeve, who was decidedly more drunk than either of the Turks. Instead, he reached over and adjusted Reno's hold on the bottle. "You wouldn't pour so properly," Tseng murmured, and Reno realized that he was trying to make the motion _Reno's_ instead of his own. Reno wasn't sure what he thought of that.

"How are you familiar with dreams?" He decided to dismiss it for now. If it made Tseng feel better to see Reno pour the drink a certain way, then Reno would pour the drink that way. He needed to cushion his stay for as long as possible. Tseng would grow tired of him eventually. He focused on Reeve, on keeping Reeve's glass full. He had no doubt that Reeve would be the easier to coax information out of.

Reeve waved a hand, sighing as he looked over at Tseng. "I build dreams for the Administrative Research Department on occasion. I've never gone in though." His expression was almost wistful, but what caught Reno's attention was _Tseng's_ expression. He hadn't done anything so obvious as averting his eyes, but his hands were a little tenser than they had been as he sipped from his cup.

"Never, ever?" Reno leaned across the table, a little too close for a new acquaintance, and he grinned as Reeve simply reached up and ruffled his hair before pushing him back into his seat.

"Never," he replied, and this time Reno's eyes were on Tseng's hands, waiting for the tell.

And _there_ it was. Tseng's fingers had tensed once more before they relaxed. Reno leaned back in his seat, smiling to himself, sliding a fingertip over the top of his own cup. "That's too bad," he said loudly, and he was careful to tuck his legs as far under the seat's edge as he could, keeping them out of Tseng's reach in case he decided Reno needed another kick. "There's a lot of freedom in dreams."

"There's also a lot of freedom lost that goes with it," Reeve countered, and he finished off his cup. Reno had poured another and topped off his own cup before Tseng managed to get the bottle away from him without drawing Reeve's attention to the motion. Reno couldn't stop his fingers as they sought out the key chain in his pocket. He didn't pull it out, but instead simply traced his fingers over it.

Reeve didn't notice, but Tseng did. Tseng noticed everything.

Tseng didn't say anything though, and Reno decided that so long as Tseng wasn't scolding him, he might as well push a little more. When Reeve finished off that cup too, Reno switched theirs, so that he had the empty one and Reeve's was suddenly full again. Reeve was rapidly reaching the point where he didn't even seem to notice, and Tseng was wearing a faint smile that suggested that perhaps he'd wanted to do this sort of thing as well. Reno had simply been an opportunity; an excuse.

It didn't take much coaxing either to get Reeve to his feet, to get him laughing and belting out some tune that he and Tseng apparently knew. Reno wanted very much to take him to a club in that moment, to watch him laugh and flirt and dance with some poor partner that probably wouldn't be as drunk as he was. For now though, he decided that he could make do. He turned up the music on Tseng's entertainment system, and it was loud enough that he wondered if they'd get in trouble for it.

Then he remembered that blue suit, remembered the way everyone had gotten out of Tseng's way without him even trying. Reno doubted that anyone would complain about a little noise from the apartment. He finished off Tseng's last cup of sake with a giggle to himself. Apparently, there would be perks to being forced into a suit all day.

He didn't remember sleeping, but he must have because he woke the morning light spilling in the room from the window. He grumbled, started to roll over and go back to sleep, but only ended up tumbling out of the chair he'd dozed off in. He lay there on the floor, staring up at the ceiling for several minutes. Then he saw the red string hanging over the edge of the table, and he smiled. He reached up to touch it, to see if he was imagining it, but when his fingers slid over it, he felt his heart stop.

Tseng hadn't been joking, he realized, reaching back to check. His hair really was gone. Or rather, it was a hell of a lot shorter than Reno normally wore it. He scowled, pulling the hair off of the table. That wasn't cool.

He stalked off to the bathroom, and he spent several minutes staring at his reflection, reaching out and touching it, then pulling out his key chain. He had to watch the ball spin until it sank in that it was real. He looked back up at that face, and he smiled slowly, experimentally. Then he frowned.

He looked clean. Bare. His skin was pale, stark, and without his make-up to smooth his expression, his eyes seemed over-bright in his face. He pushed his hand through the short, dark red hair that was left, and he realized vaguely that it was the same style cut he'd seen on Military Academy boys. He'd never been a fan of it, especially now when he could have used his hair to keep some distance between himself and the strange world that was above the plate.

There was a knock on the door, and Reno hesitated. He looked too young, too skinny, to _scared_ to be a Turk. Tseng's voice was muffled through the wood as he called, "Are you all right?"

Reno forced himself to put his key chain back in his pocket. The ball was still spinning; the world was still turning. He took a good, bracing breath, and he pulled open the door with a smirk in place. "Course I am," he shot back, and he stretched as he strolled past Tseng toward the living room. Tseng watched him go; Reno could feel the gaze on his back, but he didn't acknowledge it.

Instead, he simply let himself marvel at the fact that Reeve was already in the kitchen— Reno hadn't realized that he'd spent the night— cooking something for breakfast. He was in a clean blue suit, one that was almost identical to Tseng's. Tseng apparently let his answer stand until Reeve had left, gone to work in the tower early. Reno found himself looking up at the off-the-rack suit Tseng had brought for him the previous day, and he let his hands slide over the fabric.

Tseng had commented that it wasn't as nice as the one that he'd ordered, the one that the ladies had measured him for, but it would do. Reno shrugged into the suit slowly, trying to let himself grow used to the weight of it, the way it hung on his body. It made him look even younger, he realized as he stared at himself in the mirror once more. Now his hair was too red, too much of a contrast against his even paler skin. He frowned a little more. There was no doubt about it though, the suit was far nicer than anything Reno had ever owned before. Nicer than anything that he hadn't dreamed.

Reno came out of the bathroom once again, tucking his shirt tails in. Tseng sighed as he dropped down in front of Reno to straighten his shirt, his suit jacket, and he produced a tie from one of his pockets. How the thing wasn't rumpled up, Reno didn't know, but before Reno could even really react, Tseng had it around his neck and tied. Reno felt like it was choking him.

He didn't even get his hands up to touch it before Tseng smacked him on the back of his head. "Don't touch it. You can take it off after your picture."

Reno felt his world shifting under his feet, felt strangely disconnected at the thought. But Tseng wasn't waiting for him to catch up. They were in the car, then in the tower, and Reno was suddenly blinking away the light from a camera and a cheerful young man who'd told him to smile.

He was rubbing his eyes when they reached the elevator, and Tseng leaned down to take off the tie. Reno managed a muttered, "Thanks," to which Tseng only nodded slightly. The tie returned to his pocket. "Have a lot more of this kinda thing?"

"No. Physical exam, and then I'll show you to our floor." Tseng smiled just a little. "Won't take long."

And it didn't. The 'physical exam' consisted of Tseng finding some nervous looking nurse and handing him a form to fill out. The nurse did so, and Tseng bowed, took the form back, and then ushered Reno back into the elevator. Reno wasn't entirely sure, but he had thought that a physical exam would require some sort of actual examination. Apparently, that blue suit bought Tseng fear even within the company itself. Reno's grin was beginning to feel permanent.

He liked that.


End file.
